


Toil and Trouble

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 17th Century, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Witch Hunts, accidental magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-02-08 17:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: In a time when the mere utterance of the word ‘magic’ could be the last thing you ever say, the Malfoy family must do everything they can to ensure that their secret never becomes public knowledge. But the town’s current panic over potential witches and seven years’ worth of curiosity towards one particular woman has Draco Malfoy taking matters into his own hands. A Witch-Hunt AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely readers! I'm very excited to finally be publishing this story after working on it on and off for the past few months. 
> 
> A couple of notes before we begin: This fic will have seven chapters in total (including the prologue), and I will be updating around once a week until it's complete. This is an AU, meaning that the surrounding world, backstories, and such have been shifted, but the characters should (hopefully) be in-character. Also, the elements of magic are extremely similar to that in the original Harry Potter books, but Hogwarts doesn't exist because it's an AU and I say so.
> 
> So many thank yous are in order! First of all, huge thank you to In Dreams and Kyonomiko for hosting the In Another Life fest that this was originally intended for. They're the ones who supplied the prompt and are the reason this story even exists. If you haven't checked out the fics in that fest, make sure to do so! Another big thank you to mcal for alphaing and tolerating my endless babbling for months regarding this piece. And lastly, thank you to CourtingInsanity for betaing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

**March 1639**

**“** Sit up straight,” Lucius hissed.

Draco huffed as he adjusted his position on the uncomfortable wooden pew. He craned his neck to see what page his father’s prayer book was opened to and had to flip three pages to catch up.

“How much longer?” Draco groaned. There were only so many times he could count the number of window panes inside the church before he got bored.

The sharp glare of his father told Draco that now was not an appropriate time for questions. Up at the front of the congregation, the Malfoy family was in plain sight for everyone in their town to see. Their high status had given them the privilege of sitting in such a prestigious location. It didn’t matter that the Malfoys didn’t follow the doctrine that was preached within those walls; maintaining this image was vital to helping them blend in.

Draco watched his buckled shoes kick up and down while Father Fudge prattled on with the same scripted words Draco had heard repeated every single Sunday the past ten years of his young life. It could be worse, he supposed. At least the service was in English instead of Latin.

What felt like an eternity later, Draco and his parents returned to their home on the far end of town. The familiar cool wave rippled through Draco’s body as they walked through the protective wards that surrounded their estate and warned them if anyone else came near.

“Fudge invited us over for tea on Wednesday,” Narcissa said as they reached the large brick home.

“I imagine he’ll ask for more money for the church,” Lucius responded with evident disinterest. “Which obviously we’ll provide him with even if he will inevitably squander it all away again.”

The small family gathered in the kitchen where Narcissa pulled out her wand to start a fire in the hearth. After using a spell to fill it with water, she levitated the silver pear-shaped tea kettle with an embossed image of the Malfoy family crest over the flames.

Draco slumped into one of the chairs around the table and pouted. “When can I have a wand?” he whined.

“When you turn eleven,” Narcissa promptly responded.

“And is that when you’ll finally start teaching me to properly control my magic?”

“Only if you maintain your grades at grammar school,” Lucius said from his own position around the table.

“Precisely what your father said,” Narcissa chimed in while she floated the intricately designed pottery dishes onto the table for their mid-day meal. “It’s vital that we keep a low profile. No one can know about our abilities.”

Draco frowned. “I know.”

~*~*~

The moment Draco was freed from lunch, he ran down the dirt roads where his friends would be waiting for him. While not the smartest blokes in the town, Draco had come to appreciate his friendship with Crabbe and Goyle simply because they were too oblivious to realise when sparks of his magical abilities accidentally revealed themselves. The excuse didn’t even need to be logical. They would believe whatever lie Draco came up with to justify how the stains on his breeches suddenly disappeared when his mother came into view or how the quill in his hands changed a different colour during a difficult examination.

Today they were gathered in the middle of the square on the other edge of town when two other boys their age came running down the path, chasing after wooden hoops kept upright with intermittent tappings of a stick. The first was one of the red-headed boys from that poor family Draco’s father had advised him not to associate with, and the other was the orphan boy who everyone else in town pitied after both his parents died from a plague when he was a baby. Draco knew them both from grammar school, but he had no interest in befriending them.

He did, however, enjoy getting a rise out of them.

Draco nudged both Crabbe and Goyle, a wicked smile crossing his lips. “Do you see that?” he asked loud enough so the two other boys could hear his jeers. “Poor Weasley and Orphan Potter are partaking in a simple children’s game. Haven’t you two outgrown that yet?”

One of the wooden hoops rolled near them and Draco kicked it onto the ground.

The Potter boy looked down at his fallen hoop and then back up at Draco with a snarl. “You pick that up, Malfoy.”

“Rather not,” Draco replied nonchalantly, pretending to examine his fingernails. “Why don’t you get Weasley to do it? It will be good practice for whatever low-level job he will ultimately get when we’re older.”

Weasley’s cheeks reddened. “At least I’m not a spoiled prat,” he retorted, giving Draco a shove for good measure.

Draco’s balance teetered backwards, but he was able to catch himself before he fell to the ground. “You’re going to regret you did that, Weasley,” Draco growled.

He gave a knowing look and a single nod to Crabbe and Goyle, and within seconds, the five boys had succumbed to a minor sprawl. It started off slow with just a few more pushes, but their actions quickly grew more aggressive. Draco ducked out of the way when Weasley lunged for him while Potter grabbed hold of Crabbe’s linen shirt and Goyle had his fist poised for the first punch. Draco was on his knees, ducking the escalating conflict and reaching for the forgotten wooden hoop, when he heard a familiar shrill cry.

“Oh, will you boys _ever_ grow up?”

The fighting paused as a bushy-haired girl stomped towards them, her irritation visible even from several paces away.

Crabbe and Goyle backed away from Weasley and Potter, the four of them exchanging looks of bitter loathing as they smoothed out their clothing. Draco, meanwhile, claimed the wooden hoop and returned to full height.

“Ah, yes,” he drawled, a smug smile gracing his lips. “Just what this situation was missing. The town’s residential bookworm.”

Hermione Granger opted to ignore his comment, choosing instead to eye him with disdain. “No need to guess who started this,” she huffed. She glanced down at the wooden hoop in Draco’s hand and raised a disapproving eyebrow. “You give that hoop back right now.”

Hermione leaned over and tried to grab it from him, but Draco was too quick. He dangled the hoop in the air, just far enough out of her reach.

“You want it?” he said with a smirk. “Come get it.”

Draco turned on his heels and began running down the road, the hoop bumping against his side as Hermione chased after him. He looked back with a taunting grin as her hair billowed behind her at the rapid speed.

The pursuit lasted for several minutes, the two children darting past the butcher, the tailor, the blacksmith, and many startled adults who were trying to enjoy their Sunday in peace. Draco had expected Hermione to give up or at the very least become too exhausted to keep up with him, but she was proving to be a respectable opponent. Even as they reached the final stretch of shops, she was never more than a few paces behind him.

Draco picked up his speed and ran as hard as he could into the thicket of trees that lined the perimeter of the town. A stitch had formed in his side, making it difficult for him to continue, yet he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t be beaten by _her_.

Knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer, Draco scanned the forest for a tree to climb, certain she wouldn’t follow him up since she was wearing a dress. When he spotted one with low enough branches, Draco started his ascent but soon found Hermione’s hand clamped around his ankle.

“Give it here, Draco!” she demanded.

Hermione extended her other hand and managed to latch onto the bottom of the wooden hoop. She tugged it towards her, and Draco had to jump off the branch to prevent himself from falling.

“It’s not yours either,” Draco taunted, pulling it back towards him.

Hermione stumbled forward at the shift in movement, but her grip remained latched onto the hoop. Her nose wrinkled and her grip on the object turned white.

“I said, give it _here!_ ”

She once more yanked the hoop towards her, when suddenly, there was a loud cracking noise and a plume of smoke appeared between them where the hoop once was. On the forest ground were hundreds of shattered wooden shards, all that remained of Potter’s toy.

Draco peered down at his now-empty hands and then back up at Hermione where he was confronted with her wide eyes and gaping expression. Her own hands were trembling as she took a step away from Draco.

“I- What- I don’t- You--” she stammered as her reaction shifted from initial confusion to utter horror.

Draco was in an equally panicked frenzy as he tried to think of what to say while still trying to fully fathom what had just happened.

Magic. There was no other explanation. And Hermione had witnessed it.

She wouldn’t be as easy to convince as Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione actually had a decent head on her shoulders. His usual standard of lazy justifications wouldn’t suffice.

And yet, something didn’t add up. Whenever Draco had accidentally done magic in the past, he had felt a surge of energy course through his veins and linger in his fingertips. Only this time, he felt nothing.

Had he really been the one to cause the hoop to shatter?

But before Draco could begin to figure out if there was even a chance it wasn’t he who had done it, Hermione was already running back to town.


	2. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support for this fic so far! I am overwhelmingly excited by all the love from the prologue alone! Let's get into the real story now, shall we? Thanks again to mcal and CourtingInsanity for their alpha/beta help. Hope you enjoy this next chapter and let me know what you think! :)

**Seven Years Later - June 1646**

The rustling of newspaper filled the carriage as the wheels jostled over another bump in the road.

“How much longer?” Draco grumbled from within the enclosure.

“Just a few more miles,” the coachman bellowed from his perch on the box.

The week-long journey from Cambridge had been tiresome, and the comfort of home was now less than an hour’s ride away. Relieved to soon be free of this confinement, Draco returned his attention to the newspaper he had purchased at the inn that morning. He once more caught sight of the headline.

_KING CHARLES THE FIRST SURRENDERS TO SCOTS, TO BE HANDED OVER TO PARLIAMENT_

This wasn’t the outcome he and his parents had hoped for. Change led to uncertainty, which often led to turmoil, and for their family’s sake, the Malfoys preferred that governmental affairs remained stable. It was safer that way.

While Draco had avoided most of the unrest during his time at university, the country had been on constant edge the past several years as the Cavaliers and Roundheads had waged war over who should reign over the land. And now it seemed a victor had been named. But as he flipped to the next page, a different article made Draco shift uncomfortably on the hard wooden seat.

_Famed Witch-hunter Matthew Hopkins Successfully Uncovers Six More Witches Living in Norfolk_

Draco folded the newspaper and set it on the bench beside him, no longer wishing to read the rest of the paper’s contents. It was far from news that others of his abilities had been targeted for centuries because of their “unnatural” powers. His mother and father had warned him of that possibility as soon as he could start forming memories. The disturbing part, however, was the recent increase in the frequency of these “hunts”. As the war had heightened, so had the search for witches, making it that much more critical that the Malfoys keep their talents a secret.

Finding solace in the reminder that he’d be home soon, Draco ignored the uneasy feeling the article had spurred inside of him and spent the remainder of the ride staring out the window. The large expanse of repetitive green pastures that had been the only surrounding landscape for the past ten miles eventually transitioned into the towering trees that sheltered the outskirts of his town. A few minutes later, the familiar buildings came into sight as the carriage led Draco down the mainstreet that had barely changed one brick since he had left to complete his education.

The horses stopped abruptly when they reached the large stone house that laid tucked away on the far edge of town. The coachman hopped from his seat and hastily shuffled to the carriage door to open it for Draco.

“Welcome home, Sir,” he announced with a bow.

The pebbles crunched beneath Draco’s feet as he landed on the ground. He closed his eyes and let his lungs fill with the fresh air. It was mighty good to be home.

The sound of something landing next to him promptly snapped Draco out of this short moment of bliss. One of his suitcases was now at his feet and the coachman was currently in the carriage, hoisting up the other. He kept the second suitcase in his hand as he jumped off the folding step and subsequently curled his free fingers around the handle of the first. The man had already bent his knees and was prepared to lift when Draco stretch out an arm to stop him.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The coachman appeared confused that a man of Draco’s status would want to carry his own bags, but Draco was no ordinary man.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “For your troubles.” And with a curt nod signalling that the man was officially relieved of his duties, Draco picked up his suitcases and stepped through the protective wards that encircled the Malfoy home.

The front window curtains parted, revealing a glimpse of the blue eyes and long blonde hair of his mother. As Draco reached the front stoop, she opened the door to greet her son.

“It’s wonderful to have you home again,” Narcissa said with a kiss on both cheeks, the closest their family got to outwardly showing affection. “We missed you, dear.”

Stepping inside, Draco relished the way his body ignited with the traces of magic that permeated throughout the home. The suitcases lifted themselves off the ground and floated up the stairs to where Draco’s bedroom was located. Off in the kitchen, a tea kettle was already starting to whistle and three teacups fluttered out of the cabinet, waiting to be filled. There was a subtle wobbling sound echoing in the space and Draco just barely managed to duck in time to avoid being hit by a silver tray that slipped through the air and settled on the table next to where Lucius waited in the sitting room.

Draco soaked in the splendour of all the magic around him. While at Cambridge, he had only used magic on the rarest of occasions due to perpetual fear of getting caught. But here at home, he was free again.

“Congratulations on graduating,” Lucius said, giving his son a proper handshake.

“Thank you, Father.”

Lucius sank into his seat and picked up the newspaper that rested on the side table. “Have you read the paper lately?”

Draco poised himself in the armchair across from his father. “I’ve been keeping up.”

The two men sat in silence as Narcissa joined them, shortly followed by three freshly-poured cups of tea that descended on top of the silver tray. Narcissa leaned in first to take one.

“We need to be more careful than ever,” she stated firmly after taking a short sip from her cup. “Now that King Charles has surrendered, this will likely cause more nervousness in town as they all question what this means for them.”

“You don’t seriously believe people think there are witches here, do you?” Draco queried. “Surely you’ve done nothing to make them suspect us.”

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged furtive glances.

“While we haven’t, there were rumours the next town over a few weeks ago that caused some commotion around here,” Lucius explain, his expression stern as he spoke. “As of yet, nothing of consequence has resulted from it, but it does, however, mean that the idea is already implanted in these people’s minds that there is a possibility that witches live among them.” 

Draco’s mouth felt like ash. And yet, there was still a tendril of hope that alarm wasn’t necessary. He selected one of the unclaimed teacups and took a sip to moisten his palette. “You must not be too concerned if you’re freely using magic around the house.” 

“Here, we should be safe,” Narcissa clarified. “We have heightened the wards and enhanced the enchantment so that all magic will cease if it detects non-magical blood pass through them. But around town, we must be that much more mindful of our actions. Even the slightest mistake can have grave consequences. Now more than ever, we have to act as if we are no different from everyone else in town.”

“Which is why we will still have your Welcome Back dinner this evening,” Lucius said. “Everyone in town, or at least all those who matter, will be eager to see you and hear about your studies.”

Draco darted his tongue across the seam of his lips, not entirely convinced. “Are you certain that’s the wisest choice? We have evidence of magic throughout this house.”

“It’s our only option,” Narcissa concluded, straightening herself further upright. “To not host something would only lead to questions. Questions we can’t afford.”

~*~*~

There were still a few hours before the dinner, and Draco opted to walk around the town. In the few instances that he had returned to visit since leaving for university, Draco had seldom taken the time to simply _stroll_. His visits had always been brief, so he had spent the vast majority of his time at home with his parents. Now that he was back for good, however, he needed to reacquaint himself with the town in which he had grown up.

To no surprise, much of it had stayed the same. The butcher still hung his meats from the ceiling. The tailor still had rolls of fabric displayed in his window. The blacksmith still pounded away on his iron. If Draco didn’t know any better, he’d easily believe a Stasis Charm had been cast on the town so that nothing ever changed.

But then, one major difference caught his eye.

Seated on a park bench just a few paces away was a young woman, her attention completely enraptured by the massive book cradled in her lap. The bushy hair he remembered from their youth was fashioned into a simple bun near the base of her neck which made her gracefully matured features all the more noticeable. Her neat, burgundy dress with an intricate mustard flower pattern was evidence of her middle-class social status, but Draco was more drawn to the way the bodice cinched around her waist to accentuate her gentle curves.

It must have been years since they had exchanged a single word. Ever since that day in the forest, they had avoided each other. Or, more accurately put, whenever he got near, she would hurry off in the opposite direction. But Draco had been far too curious to leave it at that. Someone that day had sparked accidental magic, and he hadn’t been convinced it was him.

For the first few weeks following the incident, he had kept as close of a watch on her as he could, desperately hoping for any indication that she, too, was magical. His mind had run wild with the possibilities of having someone else in town who understood him; all he needed was confirmation. Back then, he would have sworn on Merlin’s grave that he hadn’t been the one to cause the hoop to shatter, but as the weeks turned into months and she hadn’t shown any more signs of magical ability, Draco had finally surrendered. With great disappointment, he admitted to himself that he must have been so determined for her not to get the hoop that his magic had taken control of his actions. He supposed he should just be grateful she hadn’t told anyone.

And yet now, all these years later, here he was again, intrigued by this very same woman. She may not be a witch, but there was still something about her that drew him towards her. _Especially_ when he caught a glimpse of the tome’s title.

“That’s an impressive book, Miss Granger.”

Hermione startled and her head snapped in his direction with a wide-eyed gaze of disbelief as Draco settled next to her.

“I was unaware you were back in town, Mr Malfoy,” she said, tucking her thumb between the pages to keep her spot as she closed the book.

“Got in this morning,” he replied, his focus set on the worn cover of the rare book. “And how did you manage to procure a copy of _Mr William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies_?”

“You’re not the only one in this town who can have nice things,” she harshly retorted in response.

Draco’s lips curled into a pleased grin. “Time may have passed but your tongue is still just as sharp.”

She levelled him with a glare before twisting her back towards him, foolishly assuming that it would be the end of their conversation. She made to reopen the text, but Draco snatched the heavy volume to examine it for himself.

“Give it here, Draco!”

The memory of Hermione uttering those same words seven years ago flashed through his mind, but the thought did not linger long. His eyes darted down the page, revelling in the flow of the verses as he scanned the poetic lines. That temporary joy was quickly shattered, however, once he recognised the play.

“ _Macbeth_ ,” he commented, maintaining the same tone of playful intrigue despite the apprehension that was starting to trickle through his system. “That’s an... interesting choice.”

Hermione seized the book from out of his loosened grip. “And what, pray tell, is so interesting about it?”

“I simply thought a woman of your intellect would prefer the histories over the tragedies,” Draco tried to remark casually. “Not a story riddled with violent men, manipulative women, and-”

“Wicked witches?”

He forced a dry swallow down his throat. “I was going to say excessive murder.”

Hermione flushed. “Yes, well, that, too,” she said, flattening out the fabric of her skirt.

The hammering of his heart pounded against his ribcage, and Draco prayed that Hermione didn’t detect his anxiety at her mention of anything magical. Much to his relief, she didn’t stay on the topic long.

“And how did you come to know so much about Shakespeare?”

“There’s a copy of all his works at Cambridge,” he returned with a proud grin. “I’ve read them all at least once, if not multiple times.”

He expected her to be impressed, or at the very least, interested in his remark, yet she merely rolled her eyes in evident indifference.

“I should have known,” she stated, followed promptly by a dismissive scoff. “Congratulations on your fancy education. And unless there’s anything else you have to say to me, I best get going.”

She got to her feet, but before she walked away and ended the longest conversation they had shared in seven years, Draco impulsively reached out to stop her. The words tumbled out of his lips before he even processed what he was saying.

“My family is hosting a dinner this evening to celebrate my return. Why don’t you come and I can tell you all about my so-called _fancy_ education?”

“No, thank you,” she declared, not even pausing to consider the invitation. “I believe it best if you and I do not see more of each other. Good day, Mr Malfoy.”

She turned on her heels and kept the book clamped close to her chest as she walked away, leaving Draco speechless and disappointed as he sat alone on the bench.

~*~*~

“It was our pleasure,” Narcissa said to a thin-lipped, plump woman while Lucius shook the husband’s hand farewell.

After several courses of roasted meats, aged cheese, and succulent fruits, the Malfoys had successfully navigated their way through a delightful evening without any detection or suspicion of their abilities. The last of the guests were heading towards the door, and Draco was all too ready to retire to his feathered mattress after a week of restless nights at whatever inn they had found along their path.

They finally ushered out the Parkinson family whose daughter had been ogling Draco all night, and now only one man remained. The portly man stood in the sitting room, staring at the family portrait Lucius had frozen for the night’s occasion.

“Can I help you with something, Father Fudge?” Lucius asked.

The ageing gentleman jumped at the disturbance. He briefly turned in Lucius’s direction before reverting his attention to the portrait.

“The detail in this painting is like none I’ve ever seen before,” he commented, taking a step closer to admire the brushwork.

Draco and his mother exchanged nervous glances.

“We had it commissioned for us by a talented artist closer to Cambridge,” Narcissa artfully explained. “I’d be happy to give you his name, but I’m afraid the journey is quite far.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Fudge said, fiddling with the lace of his collar. “Although, I do have a question for you and your family.”

While Fudge may not have noticed, the alarmed concern that had suddenly clouded the room was obvious to each of the Malfoys.

“If it’s a matter of money, consider it no issue,” Lucius supplied. “You know our family will always support the church.”

“No, no, this isn’t about money,” Fudge dismissed. “It is, however, regarding the question of witches in this town.”

Draco fought to keep his expression neutral, and Narcissa steadied herself on the back of one of the chairs.

“What have you heard?” she asked.

To anyone else, Narcissa wouldn’t have sounded any different than usual, but Draco could hear the traces of fear masked behind her words.

Fudge appeared anxious as he rubbed his hands together and cautioned to take a seat. “As I am sure you are aware, there were rumours of witches a few miles down the road, and ever since then, there have been many whispered conversations floating around this town. I didn’t pay them much mind, but then, today, with Mr Malfoy returning to town, it got me thinking...”

Narcissa gripped the chair tighter. Lucius clenched his jaw. Draco dug his fingernails into his palm. The increasing apprehension was suffocating the sitting room. The Malfoys didn’t have to look at each other to know that the same fear was entrenching their minds.

Fudge turned to Draco, and the young wizard regretted locking his wand in his bedroom for the dinner. It wasn’t certain what Fudge thought, but regardless of whether or not he sincerely suspected them, the Malfoys needed a surefire solution to keep their name safe.

And then the idea struck Draco.

“No need to ask,” he said to Fudge with unconcerned breeze. “I will be glad to conduct an investigation.”

Fudge stared at Draco, stunned.

“Certainly that is what you were suggesting,” Draco continued, feeling more confident with his proposition. “That someone you trust goes out and makes sure that our town is safe?”

Fudge blinked a few times and then rattled his head. “Y-yes, of course,” he stammered. “That is exactly what I came to ask.”

Narcissa forced a smile. “I’m sure Draco will be honoured.”

“Yes, yes,” Fudge said, mindlessly nodding his head in agreement. He arose from his seat and gave the Malfoys a parting grin. “Yes, well, if that’s settled, then I better be off,” he concluded. “Thank you for the dinner, and thank you in advance for your assistance, Mr Malfoy.”

The door closed behind Fudge, and Narcissa peeked through the curtain, eyeing the man until he faded from sight.

Finally alone, the Malfoys retrieved their wands from their hidden locations and immediately reinstated the wards. Once again, the house filled with magic as all the plates from the meal whizzed into the kitchen and began cleaning themselves.

“Do you think he knows?” Narcissa asked.

Lucius shook his head. “The man is too dense to have figured anything out. He was likely prying to see if we had heard anything. Regardless, tonight proved how vital it is that we remain careful.”

Narcissa then turned to Draco. “I’m not sure I approve of you putting yourself in the centre of a witch-hunt investigation.”

Draco dismissed her remark. “You needn’t worry, Mother. All I’ll do is examine people’s homes for signs of witchcraft as to appease people’s fears. Besides, no one will suspect us if we’re the ones leading the charge.”

Narcissa opened her lips to say something else but instead dismissed herself to go to bed after a long night of entertaining.

As Draco pulled back the sheets and lay down for the night, he was in the midst of considering his next steps when thoughts of a certain brunette woman darted across his mind. If she thought Draco was going to easily accept her statement that it was for the best that they don’t see more of each other, then she was sorely mistaken. And now that he had an “investigation” to conduct, she’d have no choice but to speak with him again.


	3. A Plan in Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for your wonderful feedback for this fic! Love to mcal, CourtingInsanity, and all of you reading <3
> 
> *ALSO* Shameless plug right here, but HeartofAspen, In_Dreams, Kyonomiko, LightofEvolution, BoredRavenvlaw620, sarena, and I just uploaded the final chapter of our wild crack fic The Trouble with Flobberworms so if you're looking for a crazy ride of a fic, go check that out after reading this :)

"In these trying times, we must not lose sight of our faith!"

Draco flipped through The Book of Common Prayer to see how many pages they would have left in the service once Fudge concluded with his sermon. Lucius swatted Draco's hand and stared at his son disapprovingly until Draco returned his focus to the front of the church. One thing he had not missed about being home was the weekly ritual of attending Sunday services. They had never interested him as a child, and they didn't hold his attention as an adult either.

Draco tuned out the speech until a particular word recaptured his attention.

"Your fear of witches does not fall upon deaf ears," Fudge announced to the pews that contained nearly every resident of the town. "Witches and their alliance with the devil present danger to everything that we hold so dear, and we cannot afford any risks that further jeopardise our way of life as we navigate through the aftermath of this trying civil war."

Narcissa placed a hand on Draco's thigh, the only outward evidence of the Malfoys alarm at Fudge's proclamation. They had not expected such a public declaration towards the potential appearance of witches in their town, but years of masking their abilities had taught them to keep a straight expression despite the worry that coursed underneath.

"In light of recent events, I have found it necessary to assure that our town is, in fact, devoid of any trouble. It is with great honour that I now share with you that Mister Draco Malfoy, who has recently completed his studies at Cambridge, has volunteered to lead an investigation to sniff out any signs of magic in our town. Should you see anything suspicious, I direct you to Mr Malfoy who will hear all of your concerns."

Narcissa's grip tightened as the whispers of the surrounding constituents echoed through the chapel. "I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered beneath her breath.

"I do, Mother," he assured her, but his attention was elsewhere.

Draco craned his neck to scan the pews, searching for the distinctive chestnut curls. He was curious to see her reaction. Was she just as scared as everyone else at the potential of witches? Would she be impressed at all by his role?

But despite how much he searched within the church, Hermione was nowhere to be spotted.

~*~*~

Draco wasted no time commencing his search. Shortly after the conclusion of the Sunday services, Draco shared a short lunch with his parents before venturing back to the main part of town where the rest of the populace lived. He went door to door, only knocking on the wooden barriers out of politeness before granting himself entry.

The "searches" were easy, as most people in town hardly had more than a kitchen, a sitting room, and a single bedroom for him to inspect. Most of the residents stood silently in the corners as Draco entered, too frightened to say anything. Being a Malfoy and thus a highly respected member of their small town, they deferred to his status in both prestige and power as he surveyed their belongings until he deemed their household "magic free." It was nothing more than a complete facade of a process, but if it meant assuaging the town's fears so they could go back to blissfully believing that witches didn't live just a few blocks away from them, then the efforts would be well worth it.

Every now and then, a concerned townsperson would ask Draco if he had seen anything suspicious. Draco's response was the same every time.

"Nothing concerning.  _Yet_."

It was brief. Vague. But appeased their concerns without being too absolute.

The process continued until late in the afternoon when Draco reached a home at the opposite end of town from where the Malfoys resided. Ivy twisted its way over the large stones of its exterior and a steady stream of smoke billowed from the chimney. All the windows were shut.

Draco briefly smiled to himself as he approached the front stoop. He had saved this house in particular to be his final stop before returning home for the evening.

His knuckled met the wooden grains and three firm knocks resonated from the impact. On the other side, he could hear her muttering.

_"Shoo! I don't want him to see you!"_

Her frenzied remark piqued Draco's curiosity as she thrust open the door.

"Can I help you with something, Mr Malfoy?" she said, fixing him with a sharp stare of evident disdain.

Draco didn't let her reaction to his presence affect him. He smiled all the same. "Ah, Miss Granger. A pleasure to see you again, too. And in fact, you can."

Draco pushed the door further open as he stepped into her living quarters. The space was significantly larger than most of the other places he had visited that day and twice as cluttered. Various books were scattered across every surface and several items seemed to be haphazardly put back together as if they had been previously damaged.

Hermione remained rooted in the entry as Draco searched the sitting room.

"Where are your parents?" he first queried.

"They moved."

"And they left you here alone? With all these belongings?"

Hermione blanched but kept her expression stern. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Oh, but it is," Draco responded with an assured grin. "Haven't you heard? I'm conducting an investigation to see if there are any witches in town."

"How noble of you," she spat with obvious sarcasm. "I suppose you're so qualified now that you have returned to us mere peasants with your impressive degree?"

"With the way you keep mentioning it, some might assume you're jealous of me, Miss Granger."

Hermione scoffed. "I would never  _dare_  be jealous of such a pompous man like yourself."

Her sharp retort stung, but instead of responding, he reverted his attention to inspecting her belongings. As he roamed throughout the room, not once did her stare leave his direction. He skimmed over the titles of the books dispersed through the room, impressed by the wide nature of their topics.

"You have quite an eclectic taste," he commented, breaking their silence with an offhanded breeze. "Don't you have anything better to do than read all day?"

"And what would you prefer that I do?"

Draco took a step closer to her. "Perhaps a job? Spinning cloth or something? And whatever happened to those two boys whose side you used to always cling to? I haven't seen either Potter or Weasley around town."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "That would be because they were off fighting in the war."

Draco scoffed. "I should have guessed. They always did seem like the type of idiots to fight someone else's battle."

A soft meow echoed from behind him, and Draco caught sight of a ginger cat currently peeking its head out from the open door frame that led into the bedroom.

Hermione startled at the sight of the animal. "Crookshanks!" she scolded, scrambling across the length of the room to pick up the massive feline. "I told you to stay out of sight," she whispered to the beast.

Draco watched the scene with wonderment. "I was unaware that you owned a cat."

Hermione froze, ceasing her patting of the matted fur. "I don't know why you would. He's my pet and is of no significance to you."

She lowered the cat back towards the ground and it leapt out of her arms.

"Now, if you're done wasting my time, please be off. I'm sure you have other women to bother this evening."

Hermione made towards the front door and flung it open for him to exit, but Draco remained in place.

"Actually, you're my last house of the day."

Hermione released a snort. "Of course I am."

Draco smirked, gaining confidence as he closed the space between them. "You know, it's been a long day. What do you say to putting a kettle on and you and I talk for a bit? Catch up."

"I think I made it perfectly clear already that I am not interested in speaking with you more than necessary, Mr Malfoy," she contended, keeping her hand on the door so it remained open.

But Draco refused to leave. Not before they properly spoke. There was no need for her to continue to dismiss him like this. Certainly, he hadn't done anything to offender her so. At least not in recent years.

"Why is it that you insist on being so abrasive towards me?" he demanded, taking yet another step closer in her direction. "I merely want to have a civilised conversation with you, and you may deny it, but it's obvious that you are very much intrigued in my studies. You're clearly an intelligent woman, far more intelligent than ninety per cent of the men in this town, and have a clear desire to learn more. So why is it, then, that when I express interest in getting to know you better, you push me away?"

He could see Hermione swallow as she looked down at the floor at then back up at him. "I simply have no desire to get to know you better," she concluded with a note of finality. "Now have a good day."

She motioned her arm towards the open air and Draco heeded to her command. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he proceeded to the door, although he was not pleased with her response. It left him with no explanation, no better understanding as to why this woman continued to disregard him and his advances. And Draco didn't like leaving without answers.

He stopped halfway out the door, his back already to her.

"Is this because of what happened all those years ago?"

He could feel Hermione's incredulous gape. "What?"

Draco slowly turned around. "That incident. With the hoop."

As expected, Hermione's jaw hung slack, but she promptly shut it. "I don't know what you're-"

"Yes, you do, so don't try to pretend."

He swallowed, fully aware of how risky it was broaching the subject. But he had to know why Hermione was rejecting him and if it all rooted back to that day. And if she suspected anything about his powers, well, Draco would figure out later what to do if that issue arose.

He stepped back into her home, no more than a few inches away from her. "Is this because of what happened seven years ago? That day when I stole Potter's hoop and then-"

"We accidentally broke it."

Draco blinked to hide his surprise.  _We_?

"Yes," he said, cautiously going along with it. "And then you have hardly spoken to me since."

Hermione's fingers appeared to be twitching at her side. "Yes, well, you proved that day that you're an unnecessarily cruel boy who I have no desire to get to know better. Now please leave."

She began to usher him out the door, but Draco couldn't end it on that. "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm no longer that same, cruel eleven-year-old boy? That perhaps I have grown up over these past seven years?"

Hermione bowed her head. "Please, Draco. Just leave."

For a fleeting second, Draco thought he caught of glimpse of glossiness starting to sheen over her eyes, but before he could properly assess her reaction, Hermione shoved him one final time and Draco was pushed back onto the street, the door slamming shut behind him.

He straightened himself out and stared at the stone home, processing everything that had happened in the past few minutes.

Hermione didn't suspect that he was a wizard. But there seemed to be something else that was plaguing her thoughts towards him. He could see it in her pained expression.

And Draco was determined to figure out what it was.

~*~*~

Draco's investigation continued throughout the next few days until he had visited every house in town, declaring each one devoid of witches and all signs of magic. Tired and glad for it to be over, Draco stopped by the Church early on Wednesday evening to report his findings to Fudge that the town had nothing to worry about.

As he trudged back to the Malfoy home, the sky streaked with a mixture of oranges and pinks, Draco was relieved that this fake witch-hunt was resolved. Now he could go back home and relax, leaving this whole matter behind him in the past.

How very wrong he was.


	4. An Unexpected Snag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I’m eager for y’all to read this next chapter, so I won’t bore you with much this time. Alpha/beta love to mcal and CourtingInsanity. Can't wait to hear what y'all think of this one!

The next afternoon, Draco was on his way to the butcher for that evening's meal when he heard the unmistakable echoes of shouts coming from the middle of town. Several people stopped to determine the source of the disturbance while many others began heading in that direction to discover it for themselves.

Draco opted to ignore it. Whatever the commotion, it likely wouldn't involve him. The poor were probably upset that the baker had run out of bread or something of that sort. Nothing that would concern the Malfoys.

That all changed, however, when he was continuing along the path towards the row of shops and heard the call for his attention.

"Mr Malfoy!"

Draco froze.

This did not bode well.

He turned slowly on his heels to reveal a middle-aged woman shuffling down the path, holding up the fabric of her dress so it would not cause her to trip as she rushed towards him.

"Mr Malfoy," she repeated, her words a bit short as she collected her breath after reaching him. "You're needed in the town square. We believe we've discovered a witch."

Draco straightened out his back as to not appear at all disturbed. "I have already concluded my search and found no indication of magic in this town," he stated, hoping that it would be sufficient to assuage the woman's concerns.

But the woman remained just as frantic. "We know, sir, but we can assure you that it's real. A boy saw her do magic."

Draco swallowed. His only source of comfort at the woman's claim was the unlikelihood that it was his mother that they had supposedly caught in the act. His mother wasn't careless enough to publically do magic, especially while tensions still ran high throughout the town. Which meant that whoever they _did_ suspect was of no magical abilities.

That thought didn't make Draco feel much better. If it wasn't his mother they had caught, then it was an innocent townsperson who was nothing more than the victim of fear and the desire to blame someone. And Draco was now expected to make the final determination.

Unable to find an excuse, Draco followed the woman to the town square. His uneasiness swelled with every step they took, the angry cries growing louder as he closed the distance between him and the burgeoning crowd.

_"I always knew there was something suspicious about her!"_

_"No wonder she's still unmarried!"_

_"When's the last time anyone saw her at church?"_

"Make way!" Draco shouted as he pushed through the crowd.

In the middle of the escalating mob, people were clamouring around a young woman, although the thick of flailing arms made it difficult for Draco to recognise much more about the supposed witch. The enraged townspeople tugged at her while their heckles continued.

_"That explains why her parents left so mysteriously!"_

_"Those big books she carries around town must contain spells!"_

_"I bet that cat she has is her familiar!"_

Draco shoved himself closer, just in time to witness someone yank the woman's bun, releasing wild, unruly curls.

His heart faltered.

"Hermione?"

The detained woman whipped her head around, meeting Draco's gaze with intended ire, but the scorn on her lips did little to conceal the terror that lingered behind her pointed stare.

"Tell these people to let me go!" she demanded, twisting her arms in an attempt to free herself from their grip around her wrists. "They don't know what they're talking about!"

"I saw her!" piped a boy not older than seven. "She was whispering under her breath and then my hoop broke!"

He held out the two halves of the wooden hoop which Draco took into his hands.

"Mumbling to myself doesn't signify an alliance with the devil," Hermione said with a huff, not letting her apparent worries become too obvious. "You probably rolled it over a stone and tapped too hard at the inopportune time."

"I did not!" cried the boy. "She did it! She broke my hoop!"

The surrounding crowd resumed its shouting.

_"Our town is not safe!"_

_"Put her on trial!"_

_"Strap her to a chair and see if she sinks!"_

"Silence!" Draco bellowed, and the yelling ceased at once.

The vexing glares of what felt like every set of eyes in town pierced at Draco as they waited for him to say something. To agree with their accusation. To deem her a witch.

But Draco couldn't do it.

He needed to think. To come up with a plan. To figure out how to get Hermione out of this. And that required getting away from this commotion without causing any further uproar.

"We will have a trial tomorrow at noon," he announced, his voice loud so everyone who had accumulated in the centre of town could hear. "At which time, I will make my determination about Miss Granger. Until then, she will remain under my custody."

~*~*~

"Get your hands off of me!"

The door closed behind them and Draco released his hold, allowing Hermione to storm into the dimly lit enclosure. He checked to see that her back was to him as she continued with her beratement while he furtively pulled out his wand to seal the entrance. Not that he was too concerned about Hermione escaping - he needed to make sure no one else could get in.

In his panic, Draco had dragged Hermione to the crypts of the church. Home would have been his preferred location, but given the current circumstances, he couldn't afford bringing Hermione anywhere near there.

Fudge's eyes had grown wide with alarm and fear when Draco had hastily explained the situation. The man hadn't argued after Draco assured him that he had the situation covered and wouldn't need his assistance. Now that the threat was supposedly real, Fudge was predictably too cowardly to do anything himself.

So that left it all to Draco — not that that made him feel much better.

"You have no proof you know," Hermione scolded once Draco properly entered the space. She spun sharply on her heels and roamed deeper into the crypt. "Fancy man with his fancy education! Believes he can convict me of witchcraft all because of the word of a young boy!"

Draco rubbed circles at his temples. "Will you be quiet for one moment so I can _think_?"

Apparently, that was too much to ask. Hermione didn't even pause to take a breath as she proceeded with her tirade about how preposterous it all was.

There was no point trying to convince him when he was already on her side, not that she knew of course. If given the choice, Draco would have already cleared Hermione of the charges, but it wasn't that simple. The town was convinced that she was a witch, and if Draco quickly dismissed the case, then they would have suspected something amiss with him. Draco now understood that this was precisely what his mother was concerned would happen.

But there had to be a way to prove her innocence without making the public suspicious of his judgement. The only question was a matter of _how_.

"What do I have to do to convince you, huh?" Hermione's voice echoed through the brick chambers. "Do you need to tear through my home again? Pry through all my earthly belongings? Read every page of every book I've ever read?"

Draco took a step closer but halted when he saw Hermione reach for the ties of her bodice.

"What are you-"

"Search me."

Draco blanched. "What?"

"Search me," Hermione repeated, starting to undo the strings. "Find a witches' mark. I dare you."

The fabric around her waist slackened, and Hermione lifted it above her shoulders, discarding it unceremoniously on the slate stone ground. The underlying dress still covered her completely, but it didn't take long for Hermione to start removing that, as well.

"Hermione, that really isn't-"

His protest died on his lips as Hermione forced the rest of her dress overhead, leaving her standing in the crypt in nothing but her thin linen shift. Even in the loose undergarment, Draco could make out the delicate curves of her figure, causing the palms of his hands to dampen. He had never dared to picture what Hermione would look like underneath the customary ankle-length dresses, and now he had the woman who had intrigued him for so many years, standing mere inches away from him, demanding that he search her body.

With careful footsteps, Draco approached, fighting the way his heart pounded against his ribcage. He opted to stand behind her so he wouldn't have to be face to face with Hermione when he first touched her. He wasn't sure which he was more scared of: betraying how much this simple gesture would affect him or confronting the disgusted look of Hermione's face as he did.

His fingertips brushed the edge of her shoulder, and he was immediately aware of the shiver that travelled through her at the contact. Draco's mouth grew dry as he pulled down the fabric of the sleeve, revealing more of her creamy skin. He grazed a single finger across the width of her flawless back, not a single blemish in sight.

At even the slightest touch, her posture stiffened and her breathing grew shallow. It took everything in Draco to control himself. The overwhelming desire to come closer and wrap his arms around her waist was beginning to consume his thoughts, imagining how good it would feel to have the warmth of their bodies in such tight proximity. It would be so easy to ghost his lips next to her ear as his hot breath drifted over her delicate skin. He yearned to touch her, feel her, be absolutely consumed by her every sensation.

But this was not how he wanted it. Not if she wasn't doing so completely willingly.

Draco forced himself away, clamping his eyes closed as he turned his back to her.

"I trust you," he resolved. "I'll take your word for it that you don't have a witches' mark."

He kept his attention averted away as he heard her redress.

"Good," she said, her tone remaining just as severe as it had since they had entered the room. "Then if that's resolved, am I free to go?"

The shuffling of fabric seemed to cease and Draco permitted himself to look at her once more. Her arms were folded across her chest as she fixed him with a harsh glare.

Draco drew in a deep breath and sighed. "Not yet."

Hermione's nose twitched. "And why is that?" she commanded, not accepting his response so easily. "I'll tell you whatever you want. _Show_ you whatever you want! But you know just as well as I do that sometimes hoops just break! I am no more a witch than you are a wizard!"

He perked up at her final remark, suspicion washing over him. Something wasn't quite right.

"Yes, sometimes hoops just break," he reiterated, carefully eyeing her as he said his next words. "Just like that incident seven years ago."

The muscles tightened in Hermione's neck as she swallowed. "Precisely. It was nothing more than an accident."

Draco paced towards her, and for the first time since it was the two of them alone, Draco saw the trepidation in her eyes.

The moment of clarity struck.

"It _was_ you!"

Hermione blinked in rapid succession. "I have no idea what you are-"

Draco laughed, carding his fingers through his hair and gripping the roots. "And to think all these years you had me convinced…"

"The hoop broke. You and I tugged it too hard. It was an-"

"Accident?" Draco smirked. "Yes, I remember. Let's recreate that, shall we?"

Draco slipped behind one of the arches in the crypt so he was temporarily out of sight and conjured up a wooden hoop. Seconds later, he returned in front of Hermione.

"Where did you get-"

"I'd appreciate if you'd hold all questions until the end," Draco said with a taunting grin, feeling more in more confident in his assessment. "Now, if you'd do me the kind favour of tugging on this hoop, let's see what it takes to make it break."

Hermione looked down at the hoop and then back up at Draco before clamping her fingers tight around the rim.

"On the count of three…"

They pulled as hard as they could, and Draco could tell that Hermione was exerting all her effort in her attempt to shatter the wooden hoop. They could tug all day, but Draco knew the truth that the hoop wouldn't ever break.

After several moments, Draco released his grip, forcing Hermione to surrender.

"Curious, don't you think?" He began to pace around Hermione who watched him with a nervous gaze as the intact hoop remained in her hand. "You would think that two grown adults would be able to recreate that scenario, especially if we're stronger now."

She opened her lips, but Draco waved a hand to stop her.

"Are you really going to stick by your story that it broke by accident?" He stopped his pacing and quirked an eyebrow when he came face to face with Hermione. "Or are you going to admit that it was an act of… _magic_?"

The question hung heavy in the air as they stared at one another in determined silence. But Draco could stand there all day. He had waited seven long years for this moment of satisfaction. To finally learn the truth about that day.

Eventually, Hermione caved.

"What do you want, Mr Malfoy?"

A triumphant grin stretched across his lips. "I want to hear you admit it."

But as Draco could have logically predicted, Hermione wasn't going to give in that easily.

Hermione began to seeth. "You can do your very best, Mr Malfoy, but you'll never be able to prove that I'm a witch, and-"

Draco pulled out his wand, simultaneously conjuring up a chair and silencing her.

"Sit down, Miss Granger," he said with a wicked grin. "You and I have a lot to discuss."


	5. At Long Awaited Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your continued excitement about this story! But after a cliffhanger like that, let's just get on with the story, shall we? Alpha/beta love to mcal and CourtingInsanity.

Hermione teetered backwards, stumbling into the chair. She steadied herself against the wooden back, her gaze wide and her jaw slack as she stared at Draco. He watched with amusement as she tried with increasing frustration to speak but failed to utter a sound.

Having sufficiently proven his skill, Draco lifted the charm.

“You!” Hermione gasped the moment her words returned.

Draco smiled. “What about me?”

“You’re… you’re a…”

“Wizard?” Draco chuckled as he twirled his wand between his fingertips before slipping it back into his breeches pocket. “Yes, yes, I am. But the far more interesting development here is that you are, in fact, a witch.”

Hermione tensed at the statement, undoubtedly still processing that he had managed to uncover her secret. Her eyes darted into the depths of the crypt and then back at Draco. “I am.”

“I bloody knew it! I _knew_ it wasn’t me who broke the hoop!” Draco basked in the elation of the revelation before pointing a finger directly at Hermione, who schooled her features into a tight scowl. “After it happened, I spent _months_ trying to confirm my suspicion, but you wouldn’t go anywhere near me.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Hermione bellowed. “I was absolutely terrified that the son of the most powerful family in town had witnessed me do magic! How was I supposed to know you weren’t going to run off and tell your mother and father what I had done?”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “And you believed avoiding me was the solution?"

“I didn’t have many other options!” Hermione challenged in return. “My sole concern was ensuring that you didn’t catch me performing any more magic. Once, I could create an excuse for, but _twice_ would solidify my fate.” The sound of Hermione’s shallow breathing filled the crypt as Draco waited for her to continue. She drew in a long breath, and when she exhaled, her shoulders fell, dissipating some of the tension. “You have no idea how relieved I was when you left for Cambridge. It was like I no longer had this constant fear looming over me that, at any instant, I could do something to reveal myself again.”

Hermione sank into the chair as Draco took a step closer.

“No one else in town ever saw?”

Hermione worried her bottom lip, taking several seconds to ponder her response. “My parents,” she eventually mustered in a hushed whisper. “They found out a few months before you did.” She gently shook her head before returning in a normal voice, “But no one else. Not even Harry or Ron. My powers only come out when I’m overly angry or upset, so I had learned to control my emotions, particularly around them.”

At least a dozen questions concerning her friendship with Potter and Weasley swirled through Draco’s mind, but something much more peculiar about her statement struck his curiosity.

“What do you mean your parents found out just a few months before me? Didn’t they…” Draco’s question trailed off as a new thought took over. “Wait. Do you mean to say that your parents… they aren’t… _like us_?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, and Draco knew the answer before she confirmed it.

“No,” she said as though it should be obvious. “Yours… _are_?”

Draco stared at her. “I didn’t know that wasn’t an option.”

“Obviously, it _is_.”

Her words came out sharp, but the twisting of her hands in her lap signified that there was more that she wasn’t telling him.

“So what happened to them?”

Hermione stilled, her eyes remaining downward. “I told you; they moved.”

Draco conjured another chair and scraped its legs against the floor until it was next to her. “The time for secrets between us has long passed. I need to know. _What_ happened to them?”

Silence lingered for several seconds before Hermione gathered her curls and pushed them over one shoulder. Their gaze met temporarily until Hermione peered at her lap again and a heavy swallow travelled down her throat.

“Once these witch-hunts started spreading throughout the country, my parents and I became that much more aware of the potential dangers if anyone in town discovered my powers,” she began, her words rigid as she spoke. “I avoided leaving the house more than necessary, but we knew that wasn’t a long-term solution. So, shortly after my eighteenth birthday last September, I told my parents that I planned on leaving town. I reasoned that it was for the best, that then I wouldn’t be a burden on their lives anymore, but they wouldn’t hear it. They said that me showing up to a new town all alone would raise too many questions. We argued all day and struggled to find a solution until... well, they left instead.”

She lifted her head just enough for Draco to catch the glossiness that had started to glaze over her eyes. He lifted his hand in the air, contemplating whether or not he should place it on her knee, but ultimately rested it on his own instead.

“That sounds… difficult,” he concluded, hating himself for not coming up with anything more comforting to say.

“It is what it is,” she said with a heavy sigh, swiping away the single tear that had started to trickle down her cheek. “They’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.”

“And what about you?” Draco queried. “What have you been doing these past nine months since they moved?”

“Mostly keeping to myself,” she supplied, sniffing back what remained of her sorrow. “Harry and Ron had already left for the war, and there wasn’t anyone else in town I could trust in case my powers revealed themselves again.”

“Which is why you were so standoffish when you saw me the other day. You thought you couldn’t trust me.”

“Precisely,” Hermione said, straightening herself upright. “And while it has been difficult, I stand by every decision that I’ve made. It kept me safe.” She glanced at Draco with an arched eyebrow. “Or rather, it kept me safe until a few hours ago.”

Draco frowned. “What happened in the town square wasn’t my fault.”

“Is that so?” Hermione challenged. “Because the way I see it, you’re the one who started this witch hunt!”

His heart dropped at Hermione’s accusation. “I was merely the facilitator,” he corrected. “Father Fudge came to our house the other week, prying for information about witches, and the only way I could ensure he didn’t suspect us was if I became involved in the hunt. If it wasn’t me heading up this investigation, it would have been someone else. So tell me, which would you have preferred? Me, or someone who would have submitted to the crowd's cries for your immediate sentence?”

With a huff, Hermione arose from her seat, wrinkling her nose in frustration instead of providing a proper response. As she stomped into the depth of the crypt and began pacing in the shadows, Draco couldn’t help but marvel at how much the woman, _the witch_ , continued to enthral him despite the stern expression fixed on her features. For years she had fascinated him, the only one of their peers who stood up to him as a child, who matched his intellectual curiosity, who kept him wondering if there was more to her than what he saw on the surface. And now they shared in the rarity of their magical abilities.

As if he hadn’t already been convinced, Draco now had no doubt. He couldn’t allow her to be convicted of witchcraft. The problem was, he was no closer to figuring out _how_ he was going to convince the town not to prosecute her _._

The echo of her footsteps resonated through the crypt, and Draco had to hunch over to try to drown it out. He needed a plan.

His insides twisted at the prospect of the only thing he could think of.

“We need to get you away from this town. Tonight. We can sneak you out of here and--”

Hermione’s head whipped around and he was met by her incredulous gaze. “I am _not_ leaving this town! My parents left so _I_ could stay.” She began storming back towards him. “Running away isn’t going to solve anything now that you have an entire town thinking that witches live among them.”

Draco couldn’t resist the slight quirk of his lips. “They aren’t wrong.”

“That’s not my point!” Hermione scolded, halting directly in front of Draco so the angry puffs of her chest were only inches away from his own. “If it’s not me they compel you to convict, it will be someone else. You need to convince them that witches _don’t_ live among them!”

Draco scoffed and leant in closer to Hermione. “And just how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

“Oh, is that university knowledge not coming in handy right now?” she snarled.

Draco opened his lips, his mind reeling with the potential things he could snap in response while his heart raced with Hermione’s close proximity, but that all seemed irrelevant when a new idea struck Draco.

“The newspaper!”

Draco took a step away from Hermione, grasping at his hair as he worked through the thought. Hermione watched him with a mix of confusion and wonderment as Draco dug into his breeches and retrieved his wand, summoning the newspaper he had read in the carriage a few days prior. When it appeared in his hands, he raked through the pages, searching for the article.

“How did you do that?” Hermione asked, eyeing the newspaper with genuine shock. “You just… perform magic whenever you want?”

Draco paused his search to look at her. “You can’t?”

“My parents aren’t witches and wizards like yours.” She glowered, the bitterness of her assertion blatantly apparent. “I know nothing about my powers. They just… _happen_.”

“Because you don’t have a wand,” Draco whispered beneath his breath. He couldn’t even fathom the thought.

“No, I do not,” she said with a definitive huff. “It’s not as if I could waltz into a shoppe and ask for one! So, no, no wand, no book of spells, no training in any sense. It appears as if that’s just another luxury you had that I did not!”

She made to turn from him, but Draco grabbed her hand before she could storm away.

“I can only begin to imagine your frustration,” Draco said, willing for her not to shut him out. Not like this. Not when he finally had someone, when _she_ finally had someone, who could understand the other like no one else in their town could. “When we’re through with all this, let me teach you the basics.”

Her nose wrinkled again and Draco had to resist the urge to pull her closer at the way it made his heart falter despite her sneer.

“Let’s just focus on clearing my name first,” she concluded, removing her hand from his. “What’s so special about this newspaper, and how is it going to help us?”


	6. The Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to all of you following along with this story, but we are, sadly, coming near the end. After this, there will be one more chapter, and then we will be done with this tale! But until then, let's see what happens in this chapter, shall we? Alpha/Beta love to mcal and CourtingInsanity.

Streaks of late morning sun pierced through the stained glass windows of the church, painting a kaleidoscope of colours on the otherwise slate grey ground. Within the walls, Hermione and Draco didn’t mutter a sound, the tension still thick between them even as the cries of the accumulating crowd boomed from the other side of the front doors.

Hermione paced down the centre of the pews, twisting her hands in time with the clicking of her shoes. After spending the night in the crypt, her hair was more of a mess than usual. Draco had offered to spend the night alongside her so she didn’t have to sleep in the dreary chamber alone, but Hermione had insisted on him leaving. So once they had solidified their plan, Draco had conjured a down mattress and a wool blanket and left her be.

He hadn’t ventured home, however. The thought of Hermione being completely alone throughout the night did not sit well with him, so after unsealing the crypt door, Draco trudged back to the main level and curled onto one of the pews where he remained until daybreak.

Now there was nothing left for them to do but wait.

The agonizing minutes inside the church seemed to pass slower than they did during Sunday morning services. His impatience grew with each tortuous second as they anxiously awaited the ringing of the twelve bells.

At long last, the loud gongs from within the belfry echoed throughout the sacred space, and for the first time since she had joined him upstairs, Hermione’s eyes properly met Draco’s.

A lump formed in his gut as she stood beside him at the front doors.

“You ready?”

Hermione’s expression remained stern, revealing nothing as she nodded her assent.

Draco pulled out his wand while Hermione pushed up the sleeve of her dress. The tip of the wand met her bare forearm, and Draco whispered the incantation, causing sheer droplets to drip over the intended area. They pebbled across her skin for only a short moment before they sank below the surface to take effect.

“Remember to fake it,” Draco said as he tucked away his wand, “but I don’t want you to actually be in pain when I do the test.”

Hermione shoved down her sleeve with an accompanying scoff. “How magnanimous of you.”

The icy bitterness of her tone chilled Draco, prompting something inside of him to snap. “What more do you expect me to do?” he chided, dismissing the escalating chants from outside in anticipation of the trial. The townspeople would just have to wait a few more minutes for the spectacle they so desired to see. “Do you not understand that I am risking everything to make sure that _you_ stay safe?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this for me,” she snarled in response. “I could have found a solution on my own, and--”

“And what? Continue living the rest of your days in frightened isolation?” Draco shook his head. “Don’t you get it, Hermione? You’re no longer in this alone. You may think I don’t understand your situation because my parents just-so-happen to also be magical, but I know what it’s like to fear that I would somehow expose my powers around people I couldn’t trust. Or have you not considered what my life was like while I was away at Cambridge?”

She didn’t seem to have a response to that.

Draco slowly inhaled before he took a step closer, his words growing slightly less harsh. “For years, you and I both were under the impression that we had accidentally exposed our abilities to the other, and yet, despite the dangers and implications that could mean for me and my family, you have continued to interest me, or have I not made that obvious?” He could feel his pulse beating in his fingertips, but he needed to make his intentions clear before they stepped out into the public. “You’re a damn bright woman, Hermione, and I have no doubt that with a bit of training, you’ll be a talented witch. You can continue shutting out whoever else you want, but you are not shutting _me_ out anymore. You and I are in this together, even after we clear your name.”

Hermione blinked several times, her focus never shifting away from Draco as she continued to stand there silently, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. The crowd was growing impatient.

“You’re just going to have to fully process what I said later,” Draco concluded when Hermione still hadn’t said anything. “In the meantime, we have a trial to conduct.”

He once again retrieved his wand and summoned the newspaper with the necessary article from the pew where Draco had been reviewing it all night. When it landed in his grip, he gave Hermione what he hoped would be construed as a reassuring look.

“Ready?”

A silent nod.

“Good. Then let’s get this over with.”

Draco twisted his features into an appropriate scowl as he clenched one hand around the book and the other around Hermione’s wrist, forcing the church doors open with the weight of his shoulder. He dragged Hermione behind him and once they were in plain sight, he thrust her to the front of the top step for the entire town to see.

Before them stood a sea of snarls and piercing glares as an uproar of _boos_ spread through the crowd at the sight of the supposed (although, not so supposed) witch. Hundreds of people appeared to be in attendance, although Draco was sure his parents were wise enough not to step anywhere near the scene. By now, the news of Hermione’s trial had surely reached them as well as everyone else in town, but in all the commotion, it was highly unlikely anyone would notice their absence. A temporary twinge of relief trickled through Draco. At least if anything went wrong, his parents wouldn’t be immediately implicated by the volatile mob.

Taking a final deep breath, Draco raised the hand with the newspaper in the air, the other still clamped around Hermione’s wrist, until the townspeople began to settle down.

“It has been brought to my attention that there are suspicions that Miss Hermione Granger is a witch!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off the surrounding buildings for all to hear. “It is, therefore, my civic duty to test to see if our town is in danger!”

The cries of the crowd rang louder than before.

_“There’s no need for a trial!”_

_“We know she’s guilty!”_

_“Throw her in the river!”_

It was risky, but Draco flickered his attention towards Hermione, who, to her credit, didn’t let the crowd’s jeers appear to disturb her. Her back was arched completely upright as she stared out at the masses with an even expression. If Draco had to guess, though, she was undoubtedly biting her tongue rather hard to prevent even more outrage.

Draco once again lifted the newspaper, and the shouts died down. “I, too, would like to see if this woman drowns, but the English government banned that practice last year. I have, however, procured an article that details some of Mr Matthew Hopkins’ methods for discovery.”

At the sound of that name, the crowd turned alertly silent.

Draco made a show of opening the newspaper and read from the article he had initially only read the title of the week prior.

_Famed Witch-hunter Matthew Hopkins Successfully Uncovers Six More Witches Living in Norfolk_

_For the past two years, Mr Matthew Hopkins has made a name for himself due to his success in revealing witches across England, primarily in East Anglia. While the rest of the country has been fraught with the struggles of civil war, Hopkins and his associates have ensured that our towns are safe from additional turmoil by seeking out these exercisers of wicked intentions. Their searches have resulted in near three hundred guilty charges to date._

_Hopkins’ most recent successes have been in Norfolk where six women, ranging in age from fourteen to fifty-three, were charged and convicted of witchcraft after failing the “pricking” test. In this method, a needle, pin, or otherwise dagger-like instrument is pierced through the accused’s skin. Those who are consorting with the devil will not bleed from this penetration._

Draco folded up the newspaper and laid it on the ground beside his feet.

“I will conduct this pricking test to determine whether or not Miss Granger is, in fact, a witch. And to be my witness, I hereby call for the boy who originally accused Miss Granger.”

Whispers spread through the throngs of observers as they exchanged their suspicions and asked for the boy. From the far edges of the crowd, the people began to shift until eventually, the boy appeared at the church’s steps, his eyes wide with apprehension as he cautiously approached Draco.

For a fleeting moment, Draco felt a pang of sympathy for the boy as he saw a trace of his younger self in him. There was little doubt that he had created the story about Hermione to avoid getting in trouble with his parents after accidentally breaking his hoop. In the town’s panic about witches, the boy must have seen an opportunity to escape beratement. Back at that young age and stuck in a comparable predicament, Draco highly doubted he wouldn’t have been tempted to act similarly -- only Draco had had the benefit of magic to repair his mistakes. Even so, that didn’t excuse the boy of accusing someone of something they didn’t do, especially something that could have such grave consequences if the person was found guilty.

The boy gulped as he took each step one at a time as if walking towards his own sentencing. When he reached Draco’s side, Draco wasted no time reaching into his breeches, bypassing his wand and pulling out a slim dagger instead. The boy watched with fearful amazement as Draco lifted it up so that it glimmered in the sunlight for all to see.

“I will now use this dagger to prick the surface of Miss Granger’s skin!” Draco announced.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the movement of the silver blade as it lowered towards Hermione’s forearm. Draco’s gaze, however, focused on Hermione, who gave the three rapid blink signal that she was ready.

The tip of the dagger pierced her flesh, and right on queue, Hermione let out a hiss of faux pain as she clamped her eyes closed to add to their act. Even Draco had to remind himself that his spell was protecting her from any actual harm.

He added pressure to the point of contact and small drops of crimson began to drip to the surface. The boy’s face drained of colour, able to deduce what this meant and the potential ramifications for himself. But Draco had no intentions of getting the boy in more trouble than necessary. His sole purpose was to clear Hermione’s name -- that and instil fear in anyone else who saw potential benefit in falsely accusing anyone else.

Draco withdrew the dagger and presented the stained blade for all to see.

“Blood!” Draco shouted over the astonished murmurs. He did not need to fake the relief that now adorned his features. “I can now confirm my initial assessment that Miss Granger is not a witch, thus negating this boy’s accusation. This should alleviate your concerns and prove to you the validity of my judgment. We appear to be devoid of witches. Although, on the off-chance that there is anyone who evaded my inspection, let this be a warning. We have means of testing your wicked alliances, and if you are out there, you _will_ be caught! But until further _valid_ suspicion arises, we can continue living our lives in peace.”

A groan of disappointment washed over the crowd as they returned to their normal, mundane routines. The temporary drama of there being a potential witch in their town was now squashed. The townspeople mumbled to one another as they went their separate ways, no one seeming to care or notice as the disgraced boy ran down the steps and weaved his way through the dispersing crowd. 

“You’re free to go, Miss Granger,” Draco said, turning to Hermione with a subtle grin.

But if Draco was expecting some sort of indication of gratitude, he was soon to be sorely mistaken. Hermione merely gave him a curt nod of understanding before lifting the hem of her skirt and proceeding down the steps.

Disappointment now began to settle in Draco’s own gut. He had hoped that once this whole debacle had concluded, Hermione would cease whatever lingered of her years worth of irritation and fear towards Draco and grant him a fresh start now that he knew about her powers. But that didn’t seem likely.

He had just begun to walk towards his familial home, ready for a nap in his own bed after enduring his mother’s inevitable _“I warned you this was a bad idea”_ speech, when Hermione turned back and met him halfway up the stairs.

“Come to my place. Tonight after dusk,” she whispered, her words soft but sharp as she spoke. “I believe you owe me my first lesson in witchcraft.”

Draco’s grin returned as Hermione flung her curls over her shoulder and sauntered away.

Hope wasn’t lost just yet.


	7. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The last chapter! Thank *you* for reading and to mcal and CourtingInsanity for their alpha/beta help. And without further ado, let's begin.

The first splattering of stars was already stretched across the darkening sky when Draco crept through the shadows to the other side of town. Even after the resolution of the town’s suspicions earlier that day, it remained better that no one spotted Draco interacting with Hermione until the whole witch-hunt commotion was a distant memory. And he would take every precaution to make sure they didn’t get caught in another fiasco like that ever again.

He checked over his shoulder to ensure that no one was in sight before taking the final steps to Hermione’s front door and gently tapping the wooden surface. Hermione flung the door open, but she stared straight past him.

“Draco?” she said in the faintest of whispers.

“It’s me.”

Hermione startled when his response came from directly in front of her. Wise enough not to pause and ask any questions, she reached forward and had the good luck of grabbing enough of a hold on his waistcoat to tug him inside.

Now in the safety of Hermione’s house, Draco removed the charm he had cast over his body to render himself essentially invisible. And though he doubted she’d ever admit it, Draco could tell by the way her eyes lit up in fascination how impressed she was by the spell.

Instead, she turned from him and peeled back the lower edge of the front window curtains, revealing the slightest sliver of moonlight. “You sure no one saw you?”

Draco grinned with amusement. “Even _you_ didn’t see me, and you knew I was coming.”

The fabric fell back into place. “Yes, but I don’t know how long that fancy spell of yours lasts, so I thought I ought to ask.” 

“I can assure you that it lasts ample time for me to get from one end of town to the other, although I did stay in the shadows just to be safe. So are you satisfied, or are you going to continue to question my magical abilities before I even start your first lesson?”

Hermione paused, seeming to consider her options before she settled onto one of her chairs with a surrendering huff. “Fine. But I want to learn that spell first.”

Draco took the chair next to her and chuckled. “You’re free to try all night long, but I must inform you that this is one of the more complicated spells. Involves quite a great degree of concentration and talent in order to make items seem to disappear. You’ll soon come to learn that there’s much more behind performing magic than mere wand waving.” 

“And just where exactly did you learn all this? Your parents, too?” Hermione demanded. “It’s not like there’s a magic school or something.”

Draco grinned. “I had a feeling you were going to ask that.”

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his wand and three other objects that were presently no larger than a button. With a full rotation of his wrist and a firm tap on their surface, the objects stretched and thickened before Hermione’s captivated eyes until they returned to their full-sized state.

Hermione wasted no time picking up the top book and reading from the first page.

“These books have been passed down the Malfoy family line for generations,” he said, though he doubted Hermione was paying him much attention anymore. She was much too enthralled by the hundreds of pages of age-old wisdom. If Draco left now, he doubted Hermione would notice before daybreak.

Not that he could blame her. Her entire life, she had been isolated from all things magic, alone in her fear that an untimely outburst of her abilities would be the cause of her inevitable demise. But not anymore. Today was just the start of her magical training, even if it was seven years late.

After several minutes, Hermione finally peered up from the books. “Thank you.”

The soft sincerity of her voice prompted an unfamiliar warmth to spread inside Draco’s chest. “You’re welcome. Although, I’ve hardly done more than provide you with books so far.”

Hermione gently closed the volume and rested it in her lap. “Not just for the books. For everything else you did for me the past day and a half.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, mild hesitation seeming to wash over her. “I know I haven’t been the most gracious of your assistance, but you must understand that I am still just beginning to grasp this idea of no longer being alone. I’m not accustomed to letting other people in like this.” Hermione lowered her head and gently shook it back and forth. “For so long, I’ve shut myself off from anyone who it wasn’t vital that I interact with who wasn’t one of my parents, Ron, or Harry -- when they were all still here, of course.”

“Such as myself?”

“Precisely.” She drew in a deep breath as she peered down at her lap. “I did whatever was necessary to keep not only myself safe, but my parents as well, in fear of what the town would think of them for bearing a witch of a daughter. And as I’ve already told you, you were by far the person I feared the most.”

Draco couldn’t hold back the mild snicker at the irony of that thought. “Ah, yes. All fear the Malicious Mister Malfoy.”

He relished in the sound of her resulting giggle that dissipated her lingering anxiousness. “In my defence, there were several instances in which you weren’t exactly the most pleasant boy to be around.”

“I was eleven!” Draco cried. “All eleven year old boys are absolute terrors!”

Hermione’s laughter once more filled the candle-lit space. “That I cannot deny! It certainly took some time for me to become friends with Harry and Ron, but I learned to tolerate them.”

“And what about me?” Draco asked, seeing an opportunity to pose the question that had been weighing on him since she had nearly walked away without a word earlier that afternoon. “Do you think you’ve come to tolerate me as well?”

“Perhaps.” She grazed her bottom lip with the edges of her teeth. “Although, I believe it’s more than just a matter of tolerance. Since you previously admitted that you’ve been so, quote, _intrigued_ , by me all these years, I feel it’s only fair that I share with you that, even while I avoided you, there’s always been a piece of me that was curious what could develop between us if I wasn’t so scared of you confirming my abilities.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow, a pleased grin stretching across his lips. “Oh? Is that so?”

A subtle shade of pink highlighted her cheeks. “You told me the other day that I’m far more intelligent than ninety per cent of the men in this town, but there has always been only one man who I thought could truly match me.”

A symphony erupted inside his chest. Trumpets. Violins. Basses. They all chimed together in melodic harmony.

Before the moment faded, Draco stood up and offered Hermione his hand. “Enough sitting around,” he said, no more traces of doubt or concern daring to infiltrate his mind. “It’s time you learn to cast your first spell.”

She placed her hand in his, and even just the slightest feel of her welcome touch prompted his heart to falter. Not letting this distract him, Draco retrieved the second wand he had brought with him in anticipation.

“This was my grandfather Abraxas’,” he said, extending it out for Hermione to take. “It should serve our purposes well enough before we go to London where we can get you a proper wand of your own.”

Hermione lifted a questioning eyebrow before reverting her attention to the wand, a subtle smile on her lips. “Pretty presumptuous of you to assume that you’ll be accompanying me to London, don’t you think?”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” he taunted, savouring the way Hermione eyed him with contented amusement. “Although, I am curious how you intend to find the wand shoppe without my guidance.”

Hermione snorted. “Fine. In that case, I shall permit your company.” She gripped the base of the wand and began to swish it around. “Now how do I--”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Draco commanded. He grabbed hold of her hand to cease her movements. ”We don’t need you casting any more accidental spells!” He sidled closer to her. “Here. Let me help you.”

His hand wrapped around hers as he flushed his chest against Hermione’s back, becoming all the more aware of the slenderness of her frame compared to his. The wild wisps of her hair tickled against his chin as they shifted under his heavy breaths.

“It’s better if you hold it like this,” he said, adjusting her grip so it wasn’t clamped as tight. “You want it to be an extension of your body, allowing your magic to properly channel through its core.”

At such close proximity to her, Draco could feel his heartbeat start to quicken. It reminded him far too much of the night prior when they had been in the church’s crypt, Hermione demanding that he search her for a witches’ mark. His breathing grew shallower as he remembered the warmth of her flawless skin beneath his furtive touch, longing to freely explore the planes of her bare body.

And for the first time in several years, Draco sincerely prayed. He prayed that his heart didn’t hammer too hard and reveal his lustful desires. That, and no other organ of his body either.

He tried to redirect his attention to teaching Hermione and guiding her through the motions. “You just need to concentrate on an object in front of you, okay? Focus on it real intently. Got it? And now we’re just going to swish your hand across like this, and _flick._ ”

On a nearby bookshelf, a tiny vase began to rattle before it was pulled into the air. Draco took a step back as Hermione kept the tip of her wand directed at the object, the brightest smile he’d ever seen plastered across her features.

“That’s it! Now maintain your focus on it as you slowly lower your wand and gently guide the vase onto the table here.”

Hermione did as instructed, and a few moments later, the vase landed safely next to them.

Pride radiated from her as she looked down at her trembling hands. “Is it normal to feel it pulsing in your fingertips?”

Draco smiled. “Normal at the beginning, I’d say, but after a few weeks, it’ll go away.”

She continued to peer at her hands in amazement. “I like it. It makes me feel in control of my powers.”

“That’s because you are. Didn’t you see that spellwork? Quite impressive for a first timer.” He took a step closer and brushed back a loose curl, his voice growing softer. “See? You’re a natural.”

Hermione gnawed her lower lip, the warmth of her chocolate irises staring deep into his. “Or perhaps I just have a good teacher.”

“Or perhaps you and I are just a good match.”

Unable to resist her for one more second, Draco sealed what little distance remained between them and pressed their lips together. His eyes instantly fell shut as he savoured the contrast of the gentle softness of her lips against his firm, ardent kiss.

It was better than he could have ever imagined: her fingers threading through his hair, her tug on his waistcoat to deepen the kiss, her curves pressed against his chest. His brain struggled to keep up with the influx of fervour that coursed through him, and yet, Draco refused to stop. This was exactly what he wanted.

He slid his tongue along the seam of her lips and with a gentle pull of her bottom lip, Hermione sucked in a sharp intake of breath. When their lips reconnected, their tongues met, and Draco swore he’d never been a happier man.

He began to kiss the side of her mouth, his lips slowly travelling down her jaw towards her neck, relishing every inch of her skin that he could. She was absolutely divine. He found the sensitive skin just above her collarbone and began to suck, sparking a whimper out of her as he dug his fingers into the fabric of her dress.

“ _Draco_ ,” she mewled, and the rasp of her voice sent a pulsing heat to his core, inciting his instant need to capture her again in another searing kiss.

His fingers had just settled at the base of her curls, determined to keep her locked in place, when Hermione pulled herself away. Draco blinked, not ready for it to be over just yet. There was still so much of her he yearned to explore.

But he supposed that would have to wait for another night. After all, between having spent the previous night sleeping in the crypt and the mental exhaustion of the trial, she was likely tired and wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

Draco straightened himself out, preparing to say his goodbye, when he noticed Hermione once more starting to undo the ties of her bodice.

A grin that the devil himself would have been proud of stretched across her lips. “You never did get to finish your inspection, Mr Malfoy.”

Draco had to stabilise himself on the bookshelf to prevent his knees from giving out from the playful glint that now sparkled in her eyes. The heat that had penetrated his core now spread throughout the rest of his body as a coil of anticipation made its home at the base of Draco’s gut.

At a torturous pace, Hermione undid the ribbon that looped through the holes, Draco keenly observing every nimble movement of her fingers. The night prior, he had felt compelled to look away, to not let his eyes linger when she wasn’t doing so entirely under willful circumstances, but tonight, that was no longer the case.

When the bodice gave way, Draco had no trouble re-finding his footing, not in the mood to waste any more time before he could finally get his hands on her. Bodice laying forgotten on the floor, their lips came crashing together as Hermione’s fingers frantically redirected their attention to the buttons of Draco’s waistcoat until he too was freed from the outermost layer of his fabric prison.

Slowing down their fervent kiss, Hermione caught his bottom lip between her teeth and drew it back tantalisingly slow before releasing it. Her gaze danced with the excitement of what they both knew would happen next. She intertwined their fingers and led him into her bedroom.

Once inside, they rushed to divest each other of the remaining clothes. Shift, linen shirt, and stockings were haphazardly scattered as they went. Draco pulled Hermione in for another firm kiss before pushing her back against the bed, allowing her ringlets of curls to splay behind her. He stared down at her, soaking in the sight.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous, Hermione,” he said, doubtful he had ever been more certain of a thought in his life.

One hand rested beside her, the other burying itself in her locks, Draco absorbed himself in her ready gaze for a few more lingering seconds before diving in for a deep, passionate, reassuring kiss. A promise that things would be better now. That whatever future troubles would come her way, they would now face together. 

Today was a new beginning for them both.

He grazed his fingers along her slit, and after a delicate nod confirming her assent, he slipped them inside. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and a soft gasp escaped the lips of the perfect witch laid beneath him.  A smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in for another kiss.

The silken touch of her fingers grazed down his torso until they settled around his length. He hissed at the intoxicating sensation, still wrapping his mind around the fact that all this was really happening.  

With each stroke, Draco became more and more lost in the sensation of her grip but kept enough control of his senses so she remained equally satisfied in their movements.  She writhed under his touch, maintaining one hand coiled in his hair as his fingers continued to bury themselves in her sweet heat.

Her pace around him began to slow, and Draco traced his fingers down her soaken slit one final time as she guided his length towards her entrance.  When he sheathed himself inside, Hermione’s back arched at the sensation, and Draco basked in the feel of her tight walls clenched around him. He savoured the sound of his name escaping her lips with a desperate cry as he slowly withdrew himself, only to immediately slide back in.  With each languid thrust, Draco pushed himself deeper, swallowing Hermione’s muffled cries with the unyielding firmness of his lips. All consuming desire pulsed through every bit of his being, and when Hermione’s fingernails dug into the muscles of his back at her fervent peak, Draco found bliss in his own climatic release.

Their breathing heavy, Draco crashed onto the mattress, a smirk to his lips as he turned to face Hermione. “What was that you were saying earlier about not being accustomed to letting people _in?_ ”

Hermione swatted a hand against his shoulder at the suggestiveness of his remark, but the sparkle in her eyes remained. “It’s not too late for me to change my mind!”

Draco wrapped his arms around the welcomed warmth of her bare waist, pulling her so she was flush against him. “I’d like to see you try to avoid me now.”

Contented silence fell between them as Hermione rested her head on his chest, drawing in a deep, calming breath as she sunk into him.

“It’s nice to not feel alone anymore,” she said after several minutes.

Draco settled a kiss in her curls. “You’ll never be alone again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) I'd love to hear your thoughts or hope that you'll check out some of my other stories. For those of you waiting, my current major WIP, Somewhere Down the Line, will be updating again (hopefully) fairly soon. But until next time... xx


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